Short and Sweet
by Beauty . M i s c h i e v o u s
Summary: Oneshot. -titleinnowayhasanycorrelationtoficslength- It's the first day of English 101 for May, and when a teacher calls on her to read a piece that delves too far into her personal life, will it bring more trouble than expected? -CS- -Concrit Wanted-


**ღ ****S h o r t . a n d . S w e e t ****ღ**

Uhm, hi. This will be the only oneshot I ever write. I have bigger fish to fry.

Reviews, crits, flames—wanted, needed, accepted.

Rated for language.

**ღ B e g i n ღ**

May Maple coughed as she entered the stuffy classroom. People began filing in, entering by two sturdy doors on either side of the lecture hall. Tables were littered with cramped chairs, and May tried to find herself a seat in the front row. She looked nervously around her; first days of a new class were always awkward. The walls were painted a dull beige, and the carpet was as hard as cement. Pulling out a pencil and paper, May stole glances from people sitting around her and behind her.

Several rows behind May, sat a man who was poised with such elegance, nobody could mistake that he was the heartthrob of Hoenn International University, Drew Roselle. To her left sat a cheery girl who always had a smile, Dawn Berlitz. Her plump red lips were being rubbed with more lip gloss, and the scent of cherries wafted over to May's nose.

Towering above the students on a wooden platform, stood Mr. Steven Stone, instructor of English 101. He busied himself with straightening out books and fiddling with papers. May noted that he had extraordinarily shiny silver hair, which contrasted greatly with her nemesis and secret lover, Drew's grassy hair. Mr. Stone was extremely handsome, and his solid features made May's heart flutter.

A bell rung, signifying that there was only two minutes before class started. May reached into her red bag for a notebook, reasoning that one sheet of paper wouldn't be enough for a class that was two and a half hours. All around her, people were shuffling to find empty seats, and saying stuff like "Damn, I forgot to bring a pencil!" or "I need my coffee or I'm going to fall asleep!" May checked her watch and realized that yes, it was very early for a college class. 7:30 AM to be precise. But it didn't matter to May, for she was always a morning person. She did enjoy a skinny vanilla latté before class, and was glad.

A tap from the microphone resounded through the lecture hall, and Mr. Stone's voice rung loud and clear with a "Hello class. Welcome to English 101."

People took their final seats and stopped chatting with the person next to them to pay attention.

"I want to start out with a simple writing exercise," explained Mr. Stone. "I will be calling on people to share this in front of the class, so you better impress. First impressions mean a lot to me." With a flick of his silver hair, and raising his hand ever-so slightly, Mr. Stone continued. "I want you to write something short and sweet. Keep it simple, and keep it real. I want to feel like _I'm_ in your head, and I'm in that moment you choose. You may write about anything or anyone—I don't care"—a cough interrupted him, and he looked skeptically to the far corner of the classroom—"as _long_ as it was a real moment you experienced. I don't want anything made up," finished Mr. Stone. "Go."

May picked up her pencil and opened to the first page of her notebook. Stealing a real quick glance behind her, she noticed that several girls were staring dreamily as Drew scribbled furiously on his paper. She immediately returned her gaze to her paper, and began writing her paper with shaky hands.

Minutes passed, but it felt like hours. May's hand began to cramp, and her writing spaced further and further apart. Beside May, Dawn flipped her silky, sea-blue hair. It brushed up against May's shoulder, sending chills down her spine. Dawn's page was only half filled up, and as May compared secretly Dawn's paper to her own, she realized that she wrote two pages, front and back.

People began tapping their pens and their pencils—May ground her teeth. The irritating sound became louder and louder, and it felt like somebody was driving pointed stones into her ear. May slumped onto the table and figured she wrote enough. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to think of something—anything. She wished Dawn would whisper something to her, or that the girl with orange hair sitting five seats over, would have a mental breakdown and make the class end. The clock in front of the class ticked and tocked repeatedly, a hand making its way slowly around the surface.

May picked herself up and stared at the classy, updated podium, until Mr. Stone arose from his seat and clapped several times. A black podium does not fit in well with an outdated classroom, May reasoned silently. The air was hot around her, and May's breaths became shallow and paced.

"Alright," began Mr. Stone, "I think we've written for long enough. I am now going to pick three students to read their piece aloud." Curious eyes wandered the lecture hall.

Please not me, anybody but me, it can't be me, I wrote something too personal! wished May silently.

"How about you, in the back of the classroom. The one with the blue shirt and brown hair."

May breathed in a hot sigh of relief. It's getting much too hot in this classroom, she reasoned. Or maybe it was just her being nervous? With my luck, I'm going to be called no matter what. Another sigh. May wound her brown hair around and between her fingers.

The man who was called read his work with a shaky, uneven voice. He didn't read a long piece. Mr. Stone frowned in resentment. This boy only wrote the bare minimum! he raged. And I didn't even _give_ a minimum!

"You, the one in the front row, right in front of me."

Dawn and May looked around each other in confusion.

"The one with brown hair," Mr. Stone clarified.

May's sapphire eyes widened in alarm. Oh, shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! I knew it! May cleared her throat and looked awkwardly around. Her voice faltered as she began.

"Uhm, my name is . . . My name is May Maple, and . . ." She looked up to Mr. Stone for help. He just gave a flick of his hand which meant, "Get on with it."

May, you're a big girl, she told herself. You can do this. It's a piece of cake. I'll even get you a caramel frappuccino after this is over. She always bribed herself when she was nervous.

"It was a hot September day," May began, reading off her notebook. Her voice wavered slightly, and she wished Drew wouldn't notice. "School had just begun, and I was starting the new school as a sophomore. All around me there were crowds of people. People with black hair and black clothes gossiped about the people with cheerleading uniforms, who were gossiping about all the athletes who were dating and who was at the other end of the latest breakup. I stood alone . . ."

May's words suddenly became real and memorable. She began improvising what she wrote on the page and spoke clearly and loudly.

_The lockers were a fresh spring green. The windows let in thousands of streams of light, and it couldn't be a more clear day. I stood alone, absorbing the atmosphere. I had only just moved to La Rousse a few months before, but I was loving it already. The lockers were cool to the touch, and my locker, number 2497, already had a sheet of paper shoved through the vents. When I opened my locker, I was shocked at what the paper said. _This is my girlfriend's old locker. Good like trying to impress me like she did. _That was the note I lived by, for the next three years of my life. To my direct left, at locker 2498, was school heartthrob Drew Roselle._ _I saw him ever freaking period of every day. I was made fun of by the girls who liked him and was trashed day in and day out. I came home ever day with new brui—_

Shit! Why am I telling this?! May panicked. Drew's in this very mother-fucking classroom!

"Uhm, I'm not sure I would like to continue." She faltered.

Mr. Stone raised an eyebrow. "You already started it."

"It's kind of . . . personal. I'm not comfortable sharing."

"Alright . . ." Mr. Stone was wary. "If it suits you. I'll go ahead and pick another person." He shifted glances.

May let go a massive sigh of relief. She squeezed her eyes shut and slumped into the bottom of her chair. Her chest and head felt heavy.

The rest of the class passed in a blur. May could barely comprehend what Mr. Stone was saying, but she scribbled notes down furiously, breaking her pencil several times. As soon as Mr. Stone said those two releasing words, "Class dismissed," May flung her materials into her bag and was one of the first people to scramble out the door.

After getting herself a caramel frappuccino like she promised, she plopped herself down on a bench by La Rousse Central Park. Trees were shedding their leaves, and a fountain sat neatly in the center of the park. Winding sidewalks wove their way under trees and over rivers. Benches were placed randomly on corners and loops of the sidewalk, and the bench May had chosen was shaded ever-so slightly by a two pronged tree with large branches littered with majestic leaves. She tilted her head back and guzzled the warm liquid, which warmed her heart, stomach, and soul. She always asked to have her frappuccinos heated. It rushed down her body like a waterfall, and the dizzying experience from earlier lifted from her brain.

Until a green-haired, cocky man took his place next to her on _her_ bench.

"Beautiful story May! I'm so glad to hear I had such an effect on your life!" He clapped his hands and grinned.

"Shut up, Drew. I don't want to hear this right now."

"Aww, but May!" Suddenly the smile melted off his face. There was a glimmer of concern in his emerald green eyes. "You know, I was just angry back then since my girlfriend moved."

"Yeah, I could figure _that much_ out."

"Okay, you know we've been, uh . . . _kind_ of friends for four years. I never really apologized for that first day of school."

"And?" May pressed.

"_And_," Drew continued, "I want to say . . ." He swallowed. His eyes shifted from one tree behind May to another. "I'm . . . sorry."

Suddenly May's face brightened up. "Finally! I never thought there would be a day when Drew Roselle would _apologize_ to somebody!"

Oh great. Sarcasm. Drew smacked his forehead with his palm. "May," he coughed. "Okay. I get it. I'm a little narcissistic. But there's something I want to say, after that whole scene with the—"

"Don't forget conceited. And arrogant, and a perfectionist, and . . ." May began counting the traits with her freshly manicured fingers.

With a loud and authoritative snap, he snatched May's attention by a hook, and pulled her in for a lesson. "Here's how it is. I was young, confused, and I didn't know what I was doing, except I knew I could have any girl I wanted. From hearing your essay, I realized what a mistake I made. You were probably the only girl that got away."

By then, the atmosphere was heavy. Their eyes were locked, and in it swarmed a thousand feelings. May's heartbeat pulsed hard through her veins—she'd been wanting to hear this for years. All that came out of her hanging mouth, though, was "What's with the past tense?"

Drew disconnected their eye contact, and looked to the damp grass in front of him. Was that all she could say?

"I thought your essay was just what Mr. Stone told you to write," he said suddenly. "It was short and sweet. It was simple and it was real. Real enough for me to realize that . . ." Drew lifted his head and grabbed May's warm hands, "that I think I'm in love with you. I've just been too . . . naive to realize it." He entwined his fingers in hers, and leaned in slowly towards her face.

"Drew, no, you can't, because—" May's eyes shifted nervously around the park.

"Hush, hush. I'm about to kiss you! You can't talk when we kiss . . . Close your eyes."

May reluctantly obeyed. Wasn't this what she always wanted? She was about to blow it, too.

Feeling her face grow hotter and hotter, she peeked open an eye to see where Drew was aiming.

No, stupid! May mentally slapped herself. Savor the moment.

May leaned in, and it felt like she was suspended in time. Her breath began compressing, and her chest felt like it would fall to pieces. Her soft lips brushed up against his, and a surge of completion and entirety pulsed heavily through her veins. Her fingertips pulled away from his and she caressed his sumptuous, full cheeks. Drew pulled May into an embrace, and his hands encompassed her waist, his arms slowly making its way up her back.

Shifting positions so that May was laying on the bench under Drew, and Drew was panting in a table-top position on top of May, they exchanged ravenous glances. Drew pressed his mouth against May's, and they hungrily exchanged their tongues between one mouth to another. Heartbeats became one, and breaths became synchronized.

Is this what love is? May wondered. If it is, then I really hope it isn't just short and sweet. She smiled, mid-kiss.

**ღ ****E n d ****ღ**

Things move way too fast when you have so many emotions bottled up . . .

Anyone notice I completely forgot about the warm frappuccino? I'm not going back to change it. And I also realized that . . . I have a bigger vocabulary than I thought! -sweatdrop-

I think I got a bit carried away with the kissing scene, though. I planned for it to be, uhh, "short and sweet," but . . . didn't really turn out that way. xD

That could easily have turned into a lemon. ;;

Please . . . ! Feedback, feedback, feedback!

love x

Jayme

~ Beauty . M i s c h i e v o u s ~

**Pokémon © Satoshi Tajiri  
Story © Beauty . M i s c h i e v o u s  
Roselle © Beauty M i s c h i e v o u s  
DO NOT REDISTRIBUTE WITHOUT PERMISSION**


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